Originally posted on Black America Web:
I am a secret Rihanna fan. The truth is, I’m well out of her normal fan demographic. I’m literally old enough to be her mother. I realize that to admit to this will have some of you judge me, but I, like Rihanna, am unapologetic. I love this chick.
For those of you who always had perfectly shiny patent leather shoes to wear to Sunday school and whose Catholic school uniform was always properly pressed, for those who were class president and cried if you got a grade below A, and who came from two-parent, two-car families, Rihanna is not for you. Your role models should be Beyonce or Michelle Obama, two ladies in very different spheres of life who nonetheless have happy marriages and lots of disposable income in common. These ladies embody the “politics of respectability” that many Black women aspire to live up to. They are both hard-working wives and mothers who put in the time and the effort to be able to live the lives they do. I applaud them both.
But this is not about respectability. Rihanna is the poster girl for the rest of us. Rihanna is in her 20’s to be sure, and is hardly an appropriate role model for a grown Black woman. We are supposed to be somewhere married, raising kids, paying a mortgage in some suburb and going to church. We are supposed to be in that Black woman’s lockstep, doing all the right things.